


Phobia Orgasma

by localghostgirl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal is a Cannibal, M/M, More tags will be added as the story progresses, Possessive Hannibal, Someone Help Will Graham, Stalker Hannibal Lecter, he really needs help, i don't know how to tag lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-03 19:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13347834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/localghostgirl/pseuds/localghostgirl
Summary: Hannibal is scouting the area of his next kill when he happens upon a man playing the piano in his tiny house in the woods. He is soon obsessed with the scruffy-faced, dog-loving teacher.





	Phobia Orgasma

**Author's Note:**

> The fic was named after an Oliver Riot song. They're really good. I highly suggest them!! (Just be careful about listening to them in front of other people lol)

The physical aspects of the hunt has always been thrilling to Hannibal. The way the swine ran upon seeing the hungry glint in his eyes, the chase, the pitiful skirmish when the prey knew that they stood no chance, the arterial spray that he would later clean away pristinely, the light of life leaving the eyes of those who did not deserve to be considered an equal. 

But if you were to ask him what his favorite part of the whole hunt itself was, he would tell you that it was the beginning and the end. It was the planning and the creating. It was the stalking and the painting. It was tracking the prey for weeks on end to know their full schedule like the back of his hand, and it was taking away their organs (later to be consumed) and it was painting using something so ugly to become so beautiful by his own hand alone. It was the transformation. 

Which would explain why he was in the quaint little town of Wolf Trap out in Virginia and not in his home in Baltimore. He was currently casing the forest that lies behind the house of Grant Walker, a pig who thought it wise to try and question his psychiatric methods, hoping to be safe in the presence of others while at a yearly opera exclusive showing of Turandot. Little did he know he had just made himself known to a predator. (Very little, indeed.) 

It was getting dark- darker than Hannibal would like it to be, as there were wolves and coyotes that roamed the forests, as well as places he needed to be if he wanted to keep his seamless alibi. The sun was dipping down, a few red and pink hues still visible. He thought it smart to head home and make himself a meal. He was in no rush to rid the world of Grant Walker just yet. He was nothing if not patient. 

-

It had become a sort of routine, to roam the woods. It reminded Hannibal a little of a place he could never return to again, but just enough difference in the bends of the trees and tweeting birds to be able to wander and think comfortably. 

It reminded him of his past, which he only dwelled on when he knew he wouldn't be bothered. He'd close his eyes and breathe in the clean smell of tress and moss and warm summer air and listen to the birds chirping and calling to one another. He'd listen to squirrels run up and down trees, chittering and nibbling on nuts before burying them beneath the fertile soil, later to be forgotten in winter. He decided that this area was worth his time- worth her. 

A nicely sized stream, maybe large enough to be considered a river if you asked the right person, ran about a mile from Walker's house. It had many fish in it, and Hannibal thought of his favorite sashimi recipe and Chiyoh. 

He had hit a little too close to home, thinking as he was. He had sated himself for the time being. Hannibal wouldn't think of that place for a long while. 

It was upon his return home that fateful night, or what Hannibal would call fateful if he believed in such a thing. He had wandered all the way out of his usual route and into the yard of a small house. The downstairs lights were on, and Hannibal decided it was wise to watch for a little while. You could never be too careful. One must know their surroundings. After all, he didn't make mistakes. 

Someone was moving inside, Hannibal watching their every step with precision. When they neared an open window, he could see the person was a man with dark hair and a scruffy face. He appeared to be talking, though Hannibal didn't see anyone else. He kept in mind that that didn't mean there wasn't someone else in there that he couldn't see, even if all of the windows were open with the curtains pulled aside. 

The man disappeared from sight. Hannibal stood still as always, watching. Not but a moment later did the steady flow of a piano fill his ears. Out of tune slightly, he noticed, but he recognized the song. It was Debussy's Suite bergamasque: Clair de lune. Beautifully done, even he would admit. Deft fingers to play the song, he was sure. 

He left soon after the song was over.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo I'm not really sure what I'm doing. Like, I have a rough draft of this sort of planned out, I'm not sure how often I'll update. The next chapter will be longer!! Just maybe help a girl out and comment some constructive criticism? I would seriously appreciate it! Hope you guys liked it. Until next time!


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